


Not Like Sick in the Head

by LeggoxMyxGreggo



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Competent Steve, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Just some soft fluff, Mentions of underage drinking, Sick Fic, Sick Jonathan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeggoxMyxGreggo/pseuds/LeggoxMyxGreggo
Summary: Under the lunchroom lights, Jonathan looked...bad. Bad enough that if Steve hadn't known that the gate was closed, he would think that Jonathan had gone on a surprise trip to the Upside Down.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Not Like Sick in the Head

Jonathan was sick. For once Steve didn't mean it in a joking 'sick in the head' way. Jonathan was pale, sweating, shaking, sick. Steve had thought he looked out of sorts when he'd arrived at school, a little more pale than usual, a little slower to respond than usual but he'd just chalked it up to staying up too late or a bad night's sleep. It was no secret in their small group after all, that Jonathan was a notoriously bad sleeper. They all were. 

More and more often they found themselves at one of their houses, curled close together to keep the dreams at bay. More often than not, they had been woken by Jonathan's nightmares. Sure, they had their own but Steve thinks that there's more than Jonathan has told them. Those nights usually found Nancy curled up to Jonathan's back, arm around his waist and Steve's fingers tangled in the boys' soft hair. Steve can't even count on one hand the number of times he's woken up with Nancy in his arms and Jonathan so close that he could feel the heat of his back against his hand or woken to fingers curled in the neck of his shirt, loose and sleep warm and too big to be anyone but Jonathan reaching out for him over Nancy's shoulders. 

Steve's not sure then, how he's managed to miss the fact that something was off with Jonathan, how they had both missed it. Sure, Jonathan hadn't shown up at Nancy's a few nights but they'd both thought he was with his brother. He can't help kicking himself for not realizing. 

Under the lunchroom lights, Jonathan looked...bad. Bad enough that if Steve hadn't known that the gate was closed, he would think that Jonathan had gone on a surprise trip to the Upside Down. They would have heard about that if it were true, he hopes. Steve didn't even know that the eldest Byers could get sick. Logically he knew that wasn't true but the boy seemed so impenetrable, like nothing could stop him or slow him down; man of the house, brother of the year, not even a demogorgon kept him down. Yet here he was, grey in the lunch room light and shivering despite the jacket he wore. 

Steve didn't even know how to bring it up. 

"Hey, Byers, you feeling alright?" He fights not to smack a hand to his face after the words leave his mouth. Thankfully Nancy saves his ass and turns to Jonathan with that look that dared him to lie. He knows just by that look that she had been trying to figure out the best way to convince Jonathan to go home or waiting for Steve to run his mouth. He won't go without a fight, they both know that.

Jonathan blinks slowly, looking carefully between them before nodding with a quiet, "yea." Steve knows without a doubt that that was, in Nancy's words, bullshit and Nancy seems to agree as she reaches out to touch his cheek, her eyes going wide as her hand quickly moves to his forehead. "You are not okay, you are burning up."

"No, I'm fine," it's telling how bad he feels that he doesn't jerk away from Nancy's touch for several long seconds. Steve is about to call Jonathan on his lies until the boy continues, "there's only a few classes left, I'll just...I'm going to finish and go home." Jonathan shrugs and Steve decides that this is enough and that plan was worse than anything he's heard the kids come up with.

He shares a look with Nancy and nods to the door, "I'll handle it." She had a few tests today that he knew she had been stressed about, he can handle this. He's already standing from the table, smiling at Nancy's thankful look as he grabs his empty tray as well as Jonathan's untouched one. "Yea, that's not happening. We're getting you home, come on." His confident step almost falters when Jonathan actually stands to follow him.

"Will needs someone to take him home." It was a lie and Steve is quick to call it out. 

"Will rode his bike in with Wheeler today, try again."

Bless him, Jonathan does. "I need my car."

Steve doesn't even stop to contemplate, waving a quick goodbye to Nancy as he leads Jonathan out, "we'll grab it later, you know, when you don't look like death walking." The comment earns him a huff and nothing more and he wonders when he became fluent enough in Jonathan Byers that he's worried by the lack of genuine reaction. 

It isn't until they reach the parking lot that Steve takes pity on Jonathan and wraps an arm around the other boy to steady him on the way to the car. "Jeez, Nancy wasn't kidding, you're burning up." He felt like he was on fire yet he was shivering hard enough to nearly knock Steve's arm from his shoulders. He adjusts his arm around his waist at that, gathering a handful of the younger's jacket to keep a hold of him, almost scared that now that they had acknowledged the fever that he was going to fall. He'd somehow gone even more pale.

He doesn't hesitate when they reach the car to help Jonathan in and lean across him to buckle him in. He tries not to think about what it means that Jonathan let's him with less than minimal arguing. He tries not to think of the fact that Jonathan didn't argue at all once they'd left the lunchroom. 

Steve can't help glancing at Jonathan now and again and tells himself it's just to make sure he's not going to be sick in his car, not because every time he shivers it looks like he's going to shake right out of his skin. Without thinking, he cranks up the heat, leaning over to point the vent at Jonathan, patting his leg as he sits up. He gets a murmur in response that he thinks may have been an attempt at a thank you. The shivers become less violent but they don't stop. 

-

The silence when Steve cuts the engine is almost unbearable. It's not even that Jonathan is particularly chatty on the best day. This was decidedly most likely at the bottom of Jonathan's good day list. Steve would garner it was something above Will missing and probably better than fighting the demogorgon, at least he was still talking during that time. And even in fear, his face still had some color. 

"Alright, let's get this party inside." Steve doesn't wait for a response, hopping out of the car to get Jonathan's door and let him out, leading him quickly up the steps to the front door of the Byers residence before the threat of vomit or worse. If Jonathan were to pass out now, Steve's not sure he could actually get him inside. It's not that he's not strong, or that Jonathan isn't particularly light, but the other boy is built pretty solid and anyone knocked out is a struggle to move. That's what he tells himself at least. 

"You can go," it's the first thing Jonathan has said since they left the school and it startles Steve. He let's Jonathan flop back onto the bed and doesn't hesitate to shake his head.

"Nope, no can do. Nance would kill me." He'd probably kick himself if he left now. If Jonathan got hurt because- Steve shakes his head and continues, "come on, jeans off." Jonathan grumbles, gives a half-hearted kick towards Steve when he moves to tug at his jacket. "None of that." He pushes the offending leg away easily. Nancy had more fight in her inebriated. 

"-can do it myself," The words are mumbled, worrying Steve about just how bad off the other teen is. He doesn't listen to the argument, crouching down to untie Jonathan's shoes instead.

Steve has both shoes off and has straightened up to help get Jonathan's jacket off when he has an idea to get his pajamas first. "Alright, if I were you, where would I hide my pj's?" He looks at Jonathan, hoping for a response. A hand flops out toward the dresser and Steve figures it's the best he'll get. "You know, if you rest when you get sick, it goes away quicker." He starts opening drawers, "and like, your mom is super awesome, bet she's great when you're sick." No, he's not jealous of Byers. He looks behind him, frowns at the sight of the other boy sitting up to take off his jacket. The kids would never let him live this down if they knew just how much he hurt to see Jonathan having such a hard time. 

Grabbing a soft sweater and sweats, he's quick to return to Jonathan's side. "Okay, that's just sad." The teasing comment gets him a look that he hazards is meant to be a glower. It's more of a sad, rain drowned puppy. "I mean..good job fighting the jacket monster. Let's get the shirt and pants next." Steve gets a groan in response and grabs Jonathan's shirt before he can flop himself back. "Hey, it's nice that you've got your fight back, great to see, maybe stop trying to fight me though? You know, the one trying to help?" 

Jonathan leans against his chest once the shirt is off as though continuing to sit up was too much work and possibly a little bit in protest over not being able to lay down, Steve holds him close as he reaches for the sweater he'd grabbed. The bare skin is hot under his hands, even through his own thin shirt, Steve feels like Jonathan's face is burning against his chest. He regrets not finding a washcloth to clean him off first but it was enough of a fight to get changed and he can't help but miss how easy Jonathan had been in the car. 

The sweater goes on easy enough. Steve let's Jonathan fight with his belt for a few seconds before taking pity and nudging his hands out of the way. "I'm not gonna do anything, Byers," he promises quietly, feeling like Jonathan was trying to pretend he was okay. He knows that Jonathan still expected their friendship to be some kind of con and yea, he kind of felt like he deserved that.

"Why?" Jonathan's voice is quiet, rough like his throat is bothering him and Steve belatedly wonders if the Byers household had any soup. 

"Why what? Why am I not going to do anything? Cause I'm not an asshole like tha-"

Jonathan smacks his hands away and tugs his jeans off, "why are you helping me," he holds a shaking hand out for the sweats, struggling a moment to get his feet in before Steve crouches down and guides him.

"Because that's what friends do." Steve says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He looks up to meet Jonathan's unsteady gaze with a shrug, watching him mull over the thought as he tugs his sweats up. What he doesn't add are his doubts about anyone helping Jonathan when he was sick. The younger shouldered the weight of the world and Steve didn't want to admit that he wanted to help share the burden where he can. It just so happened that he was pretty alright at taking care of people. The kids have made it out of a few end of world situations with him at least, what was a fever in comparison?

"We're friends?" The whispered question pulls Steve from his musings. The confusion that Jonathan shows physically pains Steve and he wonders how much Jonathan hurt to foster so much self-doubt. He promises to himself to do better at this friendship thing, Nancy always wanted them to spend more time together outside of their sleepovers. She probably hadn't meant like this. He stands up reaching behind Jonathan to pull the blanket back, belatedly wondering if he could find some more. The fever had him shivering again.

Jonathan is curled into the blankets before Steve responds. He tugs the blanket up, touches Jonathan's forehead, "of course we're friends." The skin under his hand still burned and the sick boy's breaths had already evened out. Steve lets out a quiet sigh, smooths the hair from the other boy's forehead and leaves the room in search of a washcloth. The least he could do is try to cool him down.

Finding the wash cloth is easy once Steve decides to just start digging through closets. He finds one closet with a few towels, washcloths included, a few pillows and extra blankets. Jackpot. Steve grabs the washcloth and blankets. He remembers the story that Jonathan had told him about the creature that had left the youngest Byers after using him as a host, knows how it had liked the cold. That night, just as much as the first time he'd seen the demogorgon, stuck out in his mind. Seeing Jonathan so cold now made him feel ill, as though maybe something had gotten a hold of him too. He tells himself that's why he really can't leave, in case they're not done with the Upside Down and the creature everyone had taken to calling the Mind Flayer. What if-?

Steve tucks another blanket around Jonathan, smoothing it out before settling beside him with a damp washcloth. The other boy curls up as soon as Steve sits down beside him, tucking himself close to Steve's side with a quiet grumble. He sits still, as though Jonathan was a wild animal that was seconds away from spooking instead of a sick friend seeking comfort. Steve doesn't even realize he's holding his breath until Jonathan's head is tucked against his thigh and Steve finally relaxes, folding the washcloth to rest it over Jonathan's eyes after he's wiped the boy's exposed neck and face. 

He settles against the wall behind him, preparing to be there for the long haul with Jonathan's arm resting over his lap, his forehead pressed to his thigh. Steve never would have taken Jonathan for a snuggler. Sure, he slept close to himself and Nancy during their trauma sleepovers but he never actually got as close as he was now. Though he supposes that there's a lot he doesn't really know about Byers. Maybe they weren't as good of friends as he had thought. He drops his hand to rub Jonathan's shoulders and back, scratching his nails gently through damp hair, pausing when it elicits a violent shiver until he realizes that it had nothing to do with the fever. Again he moves his hand, scratching blunt nails gently over the sweaty skin of Jonathan's neck, over the exposed part of his jaw, through his hair and back down his back. It was a soothing gesture, something he found himself doing when Jonathan or Nancy curled up close enough for him to reach during their sleepovers, just touching to touch. Every few passes, Jonathan shivers again but doesn't move to pull away. 

-

The sound of the bedroom door opening sometime later has Steve jerking his hand away as though he'd been caught. He's thankful it's just the youngest Byers that sticks his head into the room though and Steve sighs. 

"What are you doing here?" Much like Jonathan, Will cuts to the chase. 

It still throws him off. Steve blinks and then motions to where Jonathan was still curled up to him, his fist now curled in Steve's shirt, stretching the fabric in his loose grip. "Uh," he starts eloquently, "he's sick." He doesn't have the time to feel ridiculous because Will's entire demeanor changes immediately, worry replacing whatever possibly animosity he may have been feeling towards finding Steve in his brother's bed and Steve suddenly realizes how odd that could look from the outside. 

Will quietly comes into the room and touches Jonathan's cheek carefully. His wide eyes always looked worried. Especially now as he looks up to meet Steves' and his heart aches. Before he can really stop himself, he jumps to reassure Will, "I'm sure it's just a fever, it'll be okay, just like...the flu or something, you know?" He reaches out for Will's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, the motion jostling Jonathan just enough for him to groan and suddenly he's shoving himself up.

Jonathan doesn't slow as he nearly leaps from the bed and down the hall leaving a stunned Steve and Will behind. They stare out the door in resignation and confusion respectively until the sound of retching reaches them. Steve sees Will's face screw up in disgust and pats his head as he stands to follow the sound. He was wondering when that was going to happen, had suspected for at least twenty minutes now as Jonathan had started shifting to get comfortable. While Nancy was more likely to move to the opposite side of the house at the sound of someone getting sick, Steve is glad for his iron stomach. What Steve is not prepared for though is that Jonathan only made it to the sink. 

"Well...you made it this far at least." He winces as Jonathan heaves again and walks past him to lift the toilet seat. Once he thinks it is safe to move him without him throwing up on the floor, he gently grabs his waist to guide him to the toilet. Steve hands Jonathan a wad of toilet paper that ends up balled in a loose fist while Jonathan pillows his cheek on his arm against the toilet. There's the fleeting thought of how gross that had to be before he gives Jon the benefit of the doubt. "Right, hang out there for a minute," he says, as though Jonathan looked anything but half out again already. The harsh breaths tell him that at least some more heaving was likely imminent. 

Steve sends a silent thanks to whatever may be watching above that Jonathan hadn't actually eaten today and that the clean up consisted more of rinsing the sides of the sink than actual cleaning. He wonders again about there being soup before remembering that he now had someone to ask.

"Will." Steve pops his head out the door, jumping back with a quiet 'shit' when Will pops his head in at the same time. At least Will looks just as startled, having leapt back in a mirror action of Steve. "Soup." He waves a hand to stop Will's confused look, there was meant to be more to the thought, "do you have any here?"

The youngest shakes his head with a soft, "no" before perking up, "oh, but mom's still at work. I'll call her," and he's off before Steve can even process. Will was often so quiet and calm compared to the other kids that Steve forgets that he can be just as quick as them when he felt like it.

Steve looks at Jonathan to assure himself that he wasn't going to keel over before slipping from the room to collect his washcloth, may as well rinse it while he was up. He calls to Will as he passes the kitchen, "I need a bucket or a big bowl or something." His request is met with a noise of disgust that reminds him of the face the youngest pulled after Jonathan had raced from the room.

After a few dry heaves, Steve manages to get Jonathan back into bed with the washcloth back over his eyes. It's not until they're settled down again that Will brings him the bowl. "I didn't tell mom."

"Hm?" Steve places the bowl on the floor beside Jonathan and reclaims his spot at the head of the bed.

"That Jonathan's sick. I didn't tell her." Will watched him with bright eyes. It felt almost like he knew something he wasn't telling Steve but before he can push for anything, Will continues, "she would come right home if I said he was sick. So I told her I wanted some soup and asked if we could have it for dinner." The kid was too smart for his own good.

Steve smiles at him, "smart move." And Will grins, pleased Steve assumes, that he had somehow helped.

There's another groan from Jonathan and Will bolts from the room without checking if Jonathan was going to actually puke or not. He doesn't. What he does do is sit up on his elbow, washcloth falling from his face as he looks around the room with bleary eyes. His nose scrunches and then he's flopping over to curl up tight around his stomach. Steve can't help thinking it was kind of adorable. "Gonna be sick? Got you a bowl." Jonathan moves his head in a 'no' sort of motion. Steve waits before trying again, "stomach bothering you?" This time there's a long pause that makes him think that Jonathan is out again and then a slow nod. "Ooookay….do you want to sit up?" Again a shake. He sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the side of Jonathan's head when he gets an idea. 

Steve had convinced Nancy a few weeks ago to join him for a few drinks which turned into a few more which had turned into a lovely hangover. Nancy had given up being a person long after Steve had, curling up on the couch and grumbling about boys trying to kill her. He remembers reminding her that Jonathan hadn't joined them this time. She had called him a few choice names, informed him that she didn't like him anymore and Jonathan was her favorite now before she let him rub her stomach in an attempt to get rid of the nausea and reclaim his place as favorite. Nancy had said that it had worked, at least for the nausea, he's still pretty sure that he's ranked somewhere under Mike as her favorite. Steve feels powerless watching as Jonathan curled up in the fetal position in an attempt to soothe himself. 

Nothing to lose is all Steve thinks before he sighs and reaches out to uncurl the sick teen. "Hey, come here." Steve moves again so his back is against the wall, giving Jonathan a small tug to get him to follow. The response is so slow that Steve resigns himself to having to gently manhandle Jonathan into complying. 

Finally, there's movement and the sick boy follows Steve's careful tugs until he is situated between Steve's legs, propped against his chest. He feels a bit of pride when Jonathan settles against him and he pulls the blankets up to tuck around them. "Nancy lets me do this sometimes. It totally helps or she's a liar," he doesn't get a real answer, not that he really expected one, just an irritated grumble. His ass would fall asleep like this but the small incline was hopefully more likely to keep Jonathan's stomach calm down than laying on it was. 

Steve rubs Jonathan's side softly to soothe him, unsure how rubbing his stomach might be received at this time, but he's pleased when Jonathan finally starts to relax into his touch. Though he is pretty sure he's going to catch fire under Jon's fevered body and the small pile of blankets. 

-

The sound of the door opening catches Steve's attention, the sight of Will standing there with a handful of items is enough to make him pause. They stare at each other as though they had both been caught and a silent agreement seems to be reached between them as Will finally turns quickly to shut the door behind him before he climbs up on the other side of the bed. "It's too quiet," is all the little Byers offers before pulling out some crayons and beginning to color quietly beside the two teens. Steve watches Will for a moment before letting out a breath and nodding, realizing what Will was doing, setting up a vigil over his brother. He relaxes back against the wall, "yea," he agrees, playing into the excuse he was being given, "it's pretty quiet." Slowly he starts up the action of rubbing Jon's side, getting a soft hum that echoes between the brothers in response. 

After a few minutes of quiet, Steve has graduated to actually rubbing Jonathan's stomach on alternating strokes to his side and Will started telling him stories of old D&D campaigns at some point. Steve slowly starts to get the gist of them with their weaving tales and backtracking for more information that Will only remembers after the fact. 

-

"You know, he doesn't sleep good."

Steve blinks, wondering when he had dozed off. He grimaces at the sweat he can feel along his neck, he had been right, Jonathan was a furnace. And, right, Will had said something. "What?" He looks at him, brows drawn down in confusion. 

Will didn't look concerned or even upset that Steve had fallen asleep, his gaze focused on Jonathan's face. "Jonathan doesn't sleep good." He says it as if he's sharing a secret or maybe trying to draw connections to something. 

"Oh, yeah," Steve nods, tries to bite back a yawn, "not really." He loses the battle, jaw cracking as he yawns and winces.

"He's been okay." The comment is confusing and Steve's pretty sure it wasn't just his impromptu nap making him dumb. 

Carefully, Steve extracts himself from under Jonathan to stretch and cool off. "He's been okay...?" It clicks. Jonathan hasn't woken for some reason or another like he usually would. Will must have been watching him for a while then. How long had they been out?

And, huh, Will was right. "Oh." He looks down at Jonathan, fixing the blanket as he thinks of an excuse, "well, he's not been asleep very long." With that comment, he leaves for the bathroom, wondering what had brought on that strange conversation. 

Filling the glass in the bathroom, Steve drinks half before refilling it to bring to Jonathan. He felt bad to have to wake him for the water.

It's as much of a fight as he expected. Jonathan was grouchy at being woken up. "Fuck off," his voice is raspy and thin, nothing like he usually sounds and Steve takes a sharp elbow to the shoulder that hurt more from the bone digging in than from the power behind it. For how docile he had been in the car, Jonathan was proving to be a hard patient to care for. At least Will looks amused. 

"Yeah, yeah, fuck off." Steve rolls his eyes, giving Jonathan another quick shake when the gentle approach he had originally attempted had resulted in minor assault. "Come on, Jonny."

A sound almost like a growl comes from where Jonathan had buried his face in the pillow against Steve's attack. "Don't call me that." But it works and Jonathan shoves himself up to sit, arms shaking with the exertion. He gives Steve a dark look as he takes the glass, glaring at it in turn as though it had insulted his family. "Don't call me that," he reiterates.

And okay, Steve knows when he's hit a nerve. He shares a look with Will over Jonathan's head, trying to ask for some kind of help or support navigating this minefield. Will gives him a wide eyed look and just darts from the room with a comment about their mom coming home or something. "Okay," he sighs and nudges the glass in Jonathan's hands. He hadn't moved to drink yet, merely sitting up and holding the glass. "I won't use it again, I promise. Hell, I'll pinky promise if it means you'll drink the water." Steve doesnt remember when he'd braced a knee against the bed to lean into Jonathan's space. 

When Jonathan still doesn't move, Steve wonders if he'll have to resort to begging. "Jonathan, man..." He nudges his hand again and receives an irritated huff in response. Sue him, he's worried. "You need water," 

When Jonathan finally raises the glass to drink, Steve lets out a deep breath, deflating. He's not sure what's going on in that fevered head.

"Honey?" Steve jumps at the distinct voice of Joyce Byers behind him. So focused on Jonathan he hadn't realized that she had come in. Maybe he did hear Will right when he had run off then. Steve waits to be sure the glass won't tip before getting up, slowly tearing his eyes from Jonathan to look to his mom, feeling out of his depth. It felt wrong to see Jonathan so disoriented. Her face is open, showing clear worry that he could never imagine his own mom showing. Jonathan leans into the cool hand of his mother when she touches his forehead, eyes fluttering shut with a sigh. 

"He wasn't feeling good at school," Steve supplies, feeling uncomfortable, as though he's intruding on something he shouldn't, something personal.

Joyce nods as she brushes Jonathan's hair back from his face. Maybe she already knew he was sick. Steve shifts his weight from one foot to the other, unsure. "He never did like to admit when he was sick. Lonnie was always home so much.." The comment says more than Steve feels he has a right to, he can't help feeling as though that was for Jonathan to tell. Or maybe that's just what parents do, tell people too much about their kids. Maybe Steve's the weird one in this situation. Steve shifts his weight again, cursing himself for not knowing what to say. Give him a bat and point him in the direction of danger, he can handle it and generally come out the other side. There was nothing for him to fight here. And if there was it'd probably lay him on his ass as the Byers were a tough bunch. 

Joyce watches him struggle for a little longer before offering him an out, "you can go home, we can handle it from here-" And Steve can't even think of how much he does not want that to happen, panic slowly starting to rise in his chest at the thought of leaving Jonathan here. Of not knowing, "or you can stay. If you don't mind soup and sandwiches for dinner."

The panic must have shown on his face. "That's fine!" Steve feels the bubble in his chest start to relax though it doesn't go away completely, "I don't mind. If it's okay." He tears his eyes from where Jonathan now lay curled back up in the blankets. "I'd rather stay," he ends, wincing at how lame it sounded. His father would have something to say if he'd heard. Harrington men have respect for themselves and Steve was not conducting himself in an appropriate manner. But his dad wasn't here and Jonathan was sick and he'd already held the other boy and comforted him. His father has a lot more to get mad about than his tripping over his own words apparently. Instead of continuing to entertain that thought, he offers, "I can help with dinner?"

Thankfully Joyce doesn't say anything about his embarrassing request. Instead she watched him with that same calculating look that Jonathan and Will had and Steve realizes where they got it from. The look that seemed as though they were looking through him. "How about you keep an eye in here?" And just like that, the panic settles and his shoulders drop. He hadn't even realized he'd been so tense. 

"Okay, yeah, I can do that." Steve nods quickly, walking to the bed to grab the glass. "I'm gonna-" he holds it up and motions to the door before leaving. He just needed out for a minute, maybe take a moment to figure out why it felt as though he'd just possibly passed some kind of test. For all he mocks Jonathan's antisocial awkward behavior, being around Nancy and Jonathan's families usually made him feel like maybe he's not as good at people as he thought he was. 

It takes a few minutes before Steve feels like he can go back to the room. The uncomfortable almost scared feeling he had felt at the thought of leaving was new. Not the scared part, he knew what that felt like, was actually very well acquainted with it. No it was how he felt at the thought of leaving Jonathan and not knowing that he wasn't so well acquainted with. He knows Joyce can handle herself, had seen her in the craziest situations and never once doubted her. 

After refilling the glass, Steve returns to the room, turning the new information in his head with no answers in sight. He doesn't think twice about putting the glass on the side table and crawling onto the bed once more, this time laying behind Jonathan to tuck against his back. It was easier than trying to get him to wake up and move to sit up again, he reasons. Instead he curls his arm around Jonathan's waist and gets comfortable.

The silence drags on and Steve regrets not turning on music or finding something to do. Jonathan had a few books scattered around his room and stacked haphazardly on the small bookshelf but Steve quickly dismisses that thought, he hated reading. Though that wasn't exactly true, he didn't hate it, more that he took so long to get through a book that it just wasn't worth the effort. 

Before Steve can give in and grab a book just to have something, Jonathan rolls under his arm, twisting to face Steve and pressing his head under his chin. Steve freezes, lifting his arm enough for Jonathan to move. "Jonathan?" He gets a quiet hum in response to his name. "You need up?" 

"No." Jonathan's voice is low and tired, barely above a whisper. Steve is surprised to hear it after the fight it had been earlier to get any kind of response from the other. The arm that settles across his side is warm. 

Steve lets his arm rest over Jonathan's shoulders once more. "Do you want me to get up?" He knows the question is stupid with Jonathan's arm clearly curled around him but he figures he could offer the boy an out to the surprise cuddling. The only response he gets is a soft grumble and the arm tightening around him briefly, fingers curling into the back of his shirt in a loose fist. 

There goes his plan to grab a book. Steve sighs quietly, resting his chin on top of Jonathan's head. Laying like this wasn't the most comfortable; Jonathan was burning up, hair damp and sticking to Steve's jaw when he moves his head, and the arm Steve had curled under his head to serve as a pillow was going to fall asleep any minute now. But Jonathan was lax against Steve's chest and Steve can't find it in himself to be bothered by the situation. 

Mostly unbothered. "Your hair smells," Steve grouches in a soft whisper, unsurprised when he doesn't get a response. 

-

Dinner is as much of an affair as Steve expected after the water situation. Jonathan was grouchy upon being woken again but let Steve bring him and his blanket cape as far as the living room before dropping unceremoniously down onto the couch. Joyce is kind enough not to bring up their earlier conversation as she handed him a sandwich with a worried, "I didn't know what you might like'' that Steve waves off. 

Will carries his and Jonathan's bowls to the living room, leaving Steve with his own sandwich and soup to carry. Steve is at least happy to know that Will wasn’t safe from the Jonathan glare as he nudged and pestered Jonathan into sitting up and taking his bowl. He waits until Jonathan is focused on Will before squeezing onto the couch beside him to hold the fevered boy up if he gets tired sitting up. 

Steve can say that he is honestly surprised when he makes it through his whole sandwich before Jonathan seemed to give up on food and leans so heavily into his arm that Steve knows he would lose feeling in a few minutes. “Should eat some more.” Steve nudges Jonathan and gets a grumble and a huff in response. It almost felt like before they had started their tentative friendship after that first trauma party. The time when they would act almost as though the other wasn’t there until Nancy snapped at them for being dumb. He brushes away any crumbs and pushes Jonathan to sit up again. He gets a dark look from under sweaty bangs and just responds with a smile and continues to get comfortable.

Twisting to rest his back against the arm of the couch, he leans back to give Jonathan the space to lay down. It takes little convincing for Jonathan to lay against his chest once more and Steve curls an arm around his shoulders. There’s some dork movie playing on the TV that Will had turned on and Steve has no idea what’s going on but Jonathan is a solid weight against him and Steve can’t think of a good reason to move them from this spot now that they’re here. 

It’s halfway through the movie that Steve feels like he’s being watched. A quick check shows him Jonathan is asleep against his chest and Will is completely invested in the action on the TV from his blanket and pillow pile on the floor. Tilting his head, he can just see Joyce in the doorway from the hall. She’s leaned against the doorway, hand raised to her face, and Steve worries that she’s upset before realizing that she’s just keeping a quiet watch over her boys. He shifts to better see her, maybe see if she’s okay, but Jonathan’s small whine stops him in his tracks. The boy turns to face him, curling into Steve as he uses his lap for a pillow. Steve fixes the blanket and when he looks up again, Joyce is gone. 

With a small sigh, Steve settles back for the movie, curious as to what that had been about. Distracted once more, he begins to card his fingers through Jonathan’s hair, brushing it back and gently scratching his nails over his scalp, smiling when the action gets him a shiver in response. He repeats the action and settles in for the long haul, closing his eyes. His legs were going to fall asleep like this.

-

When Steve wakes for the third time that night, the living room was mostly dark, the TV was still on but muted now as bright images flashed across the screen. He blinks, trying to make sense of what woke him beside the chill that he could feel across his lap and, oh, there was no Jonathan. Wincing, he stands and stretches, settling when he sees the older Byers swaying in the doorway. “Everything okay?” He gets a nod in response but nothing else. He waits for a moment before motioning at the direction of the bedroom, “Want to sleep?”

The question gets a nod and a quiet, “please.” Steve isn’t sure what’s being asked of him until he looks back to the couch and Jonathan shuffles closer to catch his attention. He can see now that the blanket was once more wrapped around his shoulders like a cape and Jonathan’s face was still pale even in the blue light from the TV. There were creases on his cheek from where he’d been laying on Steve. “Steve,” the sound of his name brings him back and now he’s the one making a soft sound in response instead of speaking. Jonathan looks conflicted, face more open than Steve has seen before as he takes a step into the hall, motioning behind him. “Can…..please?” Steve knows he’s not the best at reading Jonathan but in that moment he feels Jonathan had screamed his request at him instead of just pleading with his expression as open as Steve’s ever seen.

“Yeah,” Steve smiles and nods, “I can.” He watches Jonathan turn to go down the hall and quickly turns the TV off before following. 

Jonathan is sitting on the edge of the bed when Steve gets to the room. He looked worried, as though he hadn’t expected that Steve was going to follow. Closing the door, Steve pauses just inside. “I’m going to borrow some pants.” He announces, passing the bed for the dresser and grabbing a pair he knew to be in there from his earlier digging. Jeans weren’t comfortable enough to sleep in for longer than the cat naps he had been getting through the day. 

Finally reaching the bed, he’s glad to see the dark lump finally curled up on the side instead of waiting for Steve’s return. He doesn’t doubt that Jonathan had watched his shadowy form move around the room with help from the little bit of light through the window. Steve climbs into the bed once more to lay beside Jonathan, stilling this time for the other boy to curl up to him, his skin still fever warm. Steve fixes the blankets over their shoulders, tugging a pillow under his head as he settles down to curl his arm around Jonathan. Pressing his fevered forehead to Steve’s shoulder, he feels him let out a breath and finally relax into him, fingers curling once more into his shirt.

Steve is nearly asleep once again when he hears Jonathan’s quiet, “thank you.”

He smiles, presses his cheek to the top of Jonathan’s head and responds with a whispered, “any time” and finds that he means it. Steve runs his fingers up Jonathan’s back in soft shapes, getting a shiver in response that he knew now really had nothing to do with the fever.


End file.
